Opening Doors
by dib07
Summary: (Post-Fullmetal Alchemist series.) To think that he may never have opened that door.
1. Unhappy Debacle

**Opening Doors by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

Post-Fullmetal Alchemist series.

To think that he may never have opened that door.

 **Warnings:**

\- Much of this story will contain mature and/or dark content not suitable for younger readers. Do not be frightened by what I write, but I am an adult writer and I do not shy away from what others may otherwise do so. Also, Edward. Yes. Edward.

 **Pairings:**

\- Parental. There may be some moments between characters, but there is no romantic connection.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Neither do I make a profit. I write this out of my own time.

* * *

 _'Cover my ears, cover my eyes_

 _Don't tell me the bad news_

 _I'll go for years, wondering why_

 _Was there something I could do_

 _That's not right, that's not true_

 _Tonight is a bad dream.'_

 _Bad Dream – Ben's Brother_

 **Chapter One: Unhappy Debacle**

"Hey, Al, when's dinner ready?"

It was seven minutes past eight at night. The first of the stars had been joined by other stars as the sun winked out over the hard rim of the industrial horizon. It was cold, not as cold as it had been, but the wind had picked up and was steadily howling over the city. Edward had got home not long before dark, and even now he still wore his blue Alchemist State uniform. It was too military for his liking, but being part of the regiment, he had little choice but to accept. Besides, he was in the same rank Roy Mustang used to be in not long after they first met, before Roy shot up the leadership ladder.

Alphonse smiled back. "Nearly. Just give it a couple o' minutes."

A couple of minutes was enough. Edward threw off his clothes in the bathroom and ducked into the shower before he had given it enough time for the water to 'heat up.' The cold was unbearable, but he tolerated it somehow as he quickly doused his thin body in shampoo. He pulled the band loose from his hair and allowed it to fall loose over his shoulders like threaded gold.

He rose his face to the 'now warming' water with his eyes shut, thinking about the day. It had been mostly uneventful. Nothing to boast at, no victories won either. Just a hum-drum day with that god-awful Roy Mustang. Roy liked to throw his weight around, and he sure as hell enjoyed being the king amongst his rabble of troops. It was days like this that got Edward down, but his spirits soon rose when he finally got home to spend some time with his younger brother.

He turned the tap and the water chugged and slowed to a stop from the towering showering head.

Dripping, still cold, Edward opened the shower partition and grabbed a towel, wrapping himself up in it and then grabbing a second to mop at his soaking hair. The smell of dinner came through the partly opened bathroom door and he tried to guess what it was that Al was cooking. It smelled of chicken and rice. Or was it noodles and chicken?

Strange. He certainly didn't feel hungry. In fact, he hadn't eaten all day. True, there hadn't been much time to sit down and open your pack lunch. Roy had seen to that. But there had been time to grab something at the food vans starting to appear down West Street. They had rice balls, some chicken fried stuff... and puddings of a strange sort.

He put his lack of hunger down to being overworked. Roy had given him little time to relax, and what time was there, when there were streets to patrol? Unstable people to keep in check?

Work was never finished. And even though Roy was a bully, Edward did feel bad that he was always working overtime, not going home until late. In fact he was probably still at the office now, filing away reports and flashing out signatures. That man never knew when to quit. The stupid bastard. It was about time that Mustang settled down, took some leave and had a family.

A real family.

Lord knows, he needed it.

Edward padded into their bedroom in bare feet, still dripping. He grabbed the hairdryer on the floor, switched it on and gave his golden hair a good, long blow. By the time he was dry and was wearing new clothes that consisted of a black shirt and pants, he returned to the kitchen to find that Alphonse had already set the table and had served the food. It was noodles and fried chicken balls with sauce. It looked appetizing as hell, and smelled delicious. Alphonse was one master cook. But Edward looked at the food with dull eyes. He had no appetite for it. And he felt bad. Al had probably spent hours getting this all ready, and he felt ashamed.

"You okay, brother?" Al asked as Ed sat down at the table. "Good day at work?"

"You could say that. I didn't get my head bitten off this time, if that's what you mean."

Al looked at him suspiciously as if he wasn't sure if Edward was being honest or not. Edward usually came home spitting feathers; hot mad about Roy or some other dumb petty officer. And he'd rant for hours, well into the night, sometimes even waking at odd hours after the lights had been turned off when he would suddenly remember someone who had stepped on his toes.

But Edward was quiet this evening, tired even, as if he had undertaken a great journey all in one day.

"Well, what happened?" Al pressed.

Edward looked bleakly down at the steaming food before him, delicious yes, but not to him. He lifted up his chop sticks and made to eat, hoping that a few morsels would reawaken some form of hunger, be it true or otherwise.

"Some scumbag down in the east part of town was selling diamonds illegally. Or so we thought at first. It was some old woman claiming it was her son's business and all that gibberish. I ordered the investigation and had the diamonds confiscated. Then Old Roy turns up and inspects the stones. He took ages, the bastard. Then he turned to me and said I needed a better pair of eyes."

Alphonse looked at Edward incredulously, not sure where Edward was going with this. "Why?"

"Those damn diamonds had been crafted to hide something within. They could be opened, like little boxes. I never even knew. Never even looked. They hid toxins. Toxins that could kill a man easily once mixed with alchemy. And I mean basic alchemy. Just add water, or blood, and you've got one of the most deadliest poisons in the world. Even breathing it in can kill. So yeah, I fucked up a little, so what? But Old Roy... Roy, Roy..." Edward blankly looked at the rice on his plate before nibbling at it from his chopstick. It tasted so good, so soft. But he swallowed it down with great reluctance. "I should've known better, was what he said. Didn't promote me to being first officer for being blind, he said."

"So, it was a mistake! You can't know everything!" Alphonse defended quickly. "No one else spotted the diamonds being false, right?"

"Roy wants me to be the best. He doesn't care 'bout the lackeys. I think... I think one day, Roy wants me in his place. So he's doing all he can to be a dick towards me. Hell, I can take him. Just annoying is all, yelling at me in front of the lackeys and still calling me a runt. Even behind my back, the dick. Oh well." He started to eat a little quicker, trying to make it appear that he was liking the food. But it just wasn't working on the inside. His stomach refused to acknowledge the victuals.

"Maybe you should take a day off." Al suggested as he tucked into his plate. "Roy's been working you real hard. Just go to his office and ask for some time off."

Edward laughed. It was good humoured laughter, but when he had settled down, Al was watching him crudely. "Asking Roy for some leave time is like asking a wolf to spare the lamb. What a joke! I think he'd either laugh at me, or expect me to be missing both my legs to get the time off."

Alphonse went back to his food. "You could at least try."

Edward shook his head. "Naw. I know what I'm doing, Al. Don't worry about me. You just stay home, and stay safe. There are too many lunatics out there. Too many."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

That night, Edward lay in bed, wide awake, despite the fact that he had been working an eleven hour shift. Alphonse, sweet Alphonse, had gone straight to sleep, and was snoring softly beside him. They slept in a double, mainly because their attachment for one another had remained greater than ever, and insecurity struck them whenever they were apart. It was not love in a sexual sense. Just brotherly. In fact, Edward wanted Alphonse to go out there and grab himself a girl. But after what they had been through, it was possible that Alphonse was just not ready for it yet. There had been too many hardships, too many battles. Too much death. Even now, a year after Al had got his body back, he seemed no more confident. No more secure.

They relied on each other too much.

Edward looked over to the window. The curtains had been drawn, but he could still see the slender crescent of a moon shining through the diaphanous material. There was an ache in his joint, the very joint his metal arm was attached to. And across his chest another deeper ache. He jotted it down to work, be it stress or just pure labour. Things had been uneasy these last couple of days, and he began to wonder if Roy was actually a droid, a tireless, work-alcoholic droid that never stopped.

Edward turned over so that he lay on his right side. His golden hair spilled over the pillow like fine silk. The half-moon glow shone along it, making it glitter and sparkle.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

The next morning, he woke up feeling like his mind had been clogged up. He rubbed at his eyes, noticing how heavy his head felt as he lifted it from the pillow. He couldn't remember when it was he had fallen asleep during the night. His dreams had been crazy, half-wild things that slipped from memory the harder he tried to grip them.

Alphonse had already got up and left, probably making breakfast downstairs. He always had been an early riser, leaving Edward to snooze.

Edward peered at his alarm clock through the fingers of his normal hand to see that it was seven in the morning. Late! Why hadn't the damn alarm gone off? Had he even set it last night before going to bed?

He immediately sat up and brushed the sheets from his legs. Golden hair fell about his face.

Roy was gonna kill him! And sell his metal limbs to a filthy scrap yard!

He left the bed too fast - his head suddenly swarmed with fever and his eyes saw nothing but fog as if his eyes had been covered by greasy film. He fell awkwardly and hit the bottom of the closet. The closet rattled a little, then went still. Angrily, Edward propped himself up against the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes fanatically. The fog lisped away and the world was once again revealed in full colour and detail. He looked fraught, gazing this way and that, expecting the fog to re-descend all over again. The ache he had felt last night, deep almost to a point of a heavy sharpness as if there was a blade pressing into his ribs, returned. And this time it did not shift.

He rubbed at his port: the armpit below all the centric wires and tubes. There was little doubt that the ache and stiffness was coming from his automail parts.

Edward returned heavily to his feet and blundered over to the wardrobe to retrieve his uniform and underwear. He pulled off his pjs and hurriedly slipped on his day clothes, aware of the time and aware of the pressure across his chest from the weight of his right arm.

"Fuck, fuck!"

Roy was going to strangle the living shit outta him! And then possibly not promote him for a hundred years.

Dressed haphazardly in his uniform, his coat tails sticking out of his trousers and his shoe laces untied, his golden hair still loose, he skirted round the landing and hurried down the stairs. He could smell bacon and toast wafting from the kitchen, but didn't care for it.

His work bag, a brown neat, leather case was already waiting for him by the front door. He grabbed its aged handle and threw open the door. "See ya, Al!" And then walked into the cold, dozy daylight and closed the door behind him.

Shit! He didn't give himself time to pee! He'd have to do it at the office! They had toilets! He didn't like to use them though. They were cold, clinical things, and there was never any toilet paper. And if there was, it was the cheapest, scratchiest kind that gave cactus leaves a run for their money.

He ran along the street, then across the road hauling the leather satchel after him. On the corner of Roundhill shop, he paused just long enough to expertly twirl his dangly hair into a braid, fixing it at the end using a band. Then he was off again, nimble as a gazelle as he flew through traffic.

 _I should really get myself a bicycle._ He thought, not for the first time that week.

By the time he got to work, his skin was flushed with sweat and the ache had wormed its way through his ribs to his heart. He found that every time he went to inhale it just made the pain even bigger until it was swelling up inside him like a balloon. He went to the front desk, signed his name in (it was such a hurried scrawl that even he himself could read it) and hurried up the first flight of stairs to Roy's office before the receptionist could even greet him.

Hot, flushed and breathless, he powered his way up the stairs and down the corridor. He could hear his fellow colleagues through the rooms as he passed: talking over coffee, typing up letters on typewriters and laughing with their friends.

When he got to Roy's office door, he found that it was shut. Sometimes, on occasion, it was open, particularly on summer days when even the early mornings were lucid and hot. Today it looked as confrontational as a doomsday device.

Grappling for courage - courage that he had more than his fair share of during his boyhood, Edward clutched the handle and pushed it down, using his weight to open the door.

Roy was sitting behind his desk as usual, writing up letters and scratching out signatures. He briefly glanced up at Edward when he came in but he did not pause at his work. His ink pen continued to scribble away and when that signature was done, he added that page to a pile of paperwork and grabbed a new letter, scribbling on that one as well with fluid ease.

His desk was always quite tidy, but today it was piled in paperwork, inkpots and ashtrays.

Edward always felt menaced when he came here to report in, or be called in for a meeting. He hated the hierarchy, hated the strict procedures, and hated being undermined. As of now, he wanted to get this over with so he could get back to his desk and go outside to perform his duties as a State Alchemist.

"You're late." Was Roy's obvious observation without giving Edward another glance. Writing on paper was obviously far more important.

"Forgot to set my alarm." He said pensively. The discomfort in his chest made him want this little formality over with. Quickly. "What? It happens, all right? Now I gotta go. Work and all that." He turned for the door, eager for freedom, when Roy opened his mouth.

"You look feverish, Fullmetal."

Edward turned to see that Roy had evidently paused in his 'work' and was now giving him an analytical eye. "I just ran all the way here is all." He said, swallowing. "No biggie."

Roy paused, not convinced. But then his need to fulfil his duties returned. "Very well. I'll meet you at your desk in about ten minutes. There's still the diamond fiasco that needs cleaning up and that woman we caught to question. We have her locked up in D Block. I'm hoping after today we can let her go, but there's someone else involved in this scam and I want to know who."

"Can't I go out in the field? Like you said?" He hopefully asked. He wasn't in the mood for questioning dopey old people and he was sure Roy was doling out this mission for punishment for failing to see what the diamonds really were. After all, Roy had said they'd go out and chase up new clues. Besides which, interrogation wasn't really his thing anyway. He wasn't mean or ugly enough to inculcate their prisoners with fear.

"Not today." Roy muttered dismissively as if there could be no two ways about it.

"But... yesterday, you said..."

"I've changed my mind." His eyes flashed coldly at his insubordinate. "You do as I say, Fullmetal. Now go to your desk and I'll join you in a moment. Cool down. Get a glass of water." And he returned facetiously to his papers to end the conversation.

Edward opened his mouth, about to throw something back at him, then thought better of it. You couldn't argue Roy out of anything. And it was too early in the morning to get his superior super angry.

Edward gave a defeated sigh loud enough so that Roy would hear, and opened the door.

He was back in the corridor, walking drowsily to his office. True, he wasn't as hot and sweaty anymore, and a cool glass of water sounded good.

His office was even messier than Roy's. There was paper everywhere, crammed into every space: out of order and out of file. There was old, dirty coffee mugs balanced precariously on any available space, and old packets of food spilling out from an overflowing trash bin. It was a wonder he could find anything in this place.

Edward, forgetting about grabbing himself a drink, opened the blind to his window, letting in a stream of sickly light to descend upon his trash. Then he fell more than sat in his desk chair and took several deep breaths. The ache cuddled up in his chest, much to his relief, was receding. Not all the way though. His ribs were still bothered by it, but all in all he felt better, and his sweat was cooling and drying up. Still, he grabbed some tissues from the trash of other assorted rubbish and wiped at his face until all perspiration had gone.

"Roy is such a giant dick." He said to himself. What on earth would he gain from interrogating an old broad?

 _Maybe he doesn't know what else to do with me_. He thought with callous irritation. He was realizing that Roy never allowed him to do anything alone – ever. At first Edward accepted the baby-reins as he had a lot to learn, a lot to see, a lot to remember. But soon he began to realize that the baby-reins weren't coming off, and that he'd been with a team, or an escort for as long as he could remember. Yet, as a child, Edward did a lot of missions on his own, albeit with his brother when he had been a suit of armour. And yes, he had run away from his on-duty protection most of the time.

"Maybe he still thinks of me as a child." Edward grumbled. The thought had reoccurred several times as the years went by and the thought grew louder and louder. He needed to prove to Roy that he could be a man, just like any of the others. It wasn't his fault that the other men in particular were so... tall.

He observed his desk with tired eyes. Edward had never got round to tidying it up. There was just too much to do, and not enough time. And paperwork wasn't exactly invigorating for him. Everyone else settled into it as if they were born with a pen at the end of their fingertips. But not for him. He was a man of action, a man of practicability. Roy saw that? Surely? Yet instead their leader chose to ignore it as if it were better to keep him in a steel cage. Regulations acted as tough as iron bars, as Edward was learning.

He sat in that room, staring at his litter for what felt like a long time when Roy came a'calling. He tapped at his open door, and faintly smiled when Edward's golden eyes swung his way.

"Ready, Fullmetal? Sorry to have kept you waiting."

Edward nodded. "Just point me in the right direction." He was most assuredly a dog in chains. He wasn't happy about it. But if he worked hard enough, surely Roy could not ignore him any longer?

He stood up, and his organic leg failed, slipping under him. He lost his balance completely and smashed the desk with his nose as he fell. Then he tumbled to the floor, dazed and lost.

Before he could fathom what had happened, and even before he got one muscle moving again to reassert himself, Roy had his hands under Ed's armpits and was gently sitting up back up. "Gods! Ed! Are you all right?"

 _Ed? Did that dickhead just call me Ed?_

Edward looked on, still derailed. His legs lay before him like tangled things. His brain was trying its best to re-engage, even as Roy shouted at him from above. His words were muffled, and far-away, like a dream.

"Edward, look at me!"

 _He called me Ed._

 _Do I always need an escort?_

Something registered, and Edward's eyes, blank and staring, and not very vibrant, turned and looked up into Mustang's.

It was odd. Roy looked scared as fuck. And downright distraught. To see him like this scared Edward, and he looked down at his slack body, expecting fountains of blood, or something sticking out of his leg. But there was nothing amiss. He had just fallen.

Roy gently and assertively took Edward's jaw in his hand and steered his face over to Roy's. "I said look at me." He ordered austerely. Edward did this time as his brain suddenly found its tracks and life returned to his eyes.

"I am... I am..."

"Good." Roy relaxed his hold and then let go of his jaw but he still held him up against him. "You scared the blue shit out of me. What happened? Why did you fall?"

"I guess I must've... slipped." It sounded pathetic. And as he looked on, he saw that several officers and lieutenants had come to his door, having heard the commotion.

Roy followed his gaze and turned, with surprise, at the onlookers. "Get back to work! All of you!" He snapped brusquely at them. "I want your full reports this afternoon! Before you go home!"

In a flash they went scurrying, muttering and grumbling.

Edward, even though he couldn't trust his body, went to stand. Shame and deep embarrassment flooded his system. His boss... his boss of all people was holding him! And those wankers at the door had seen it all!

"Easy, Fullmetal!"

"I'm fine! I'm fine!"

Instantly Roy let him go, perhaps to see if Edward could really manage on his own.

Edward grabbed the edge of his desk and hauled himself up. He put more weight on his automail leg: a leg he knew wouldn't let him down easy. As for his normal limb, the muscles shook, but he could place weight on it too.

Loose bangs came free from his braid and hung by his face.

With one gloved hand he rubbed at his nose. His hand came away bloody.

"You... okay?" The question was awkward. Roy looked embarrassed too, as if he had walked in on someone masturbating.

Edward nodded. "Yeah. Just slipped, like I said."

"Yes." Roy answered, unconvinced. "Just as well I'm not sending you out into the field today, with a bashed nose like that. Clean yourself up and we'll go down to D block." He turned and hurried out as if the room was filling with rats.

Edward coughed, grabbed a few more tissues and swatted his nose with them.

 _Stupid, stupid!_ He scolded himself. _Falling like that! And in front of Mustang! Great job Ed! You dumb shit!_

He tested his weight several times on his normal leg and there was no repeat of the incident.

To look weak in front of his superior was bad, very bad. It didn't matter if it was an accident or not. And Edward felt really stupid.

 _You know, Ed. Them baby-reins are gonna stay on ya pal._

He left his office and walked stiffly down the well-lit standardized corridors of almost Spartan neatness. Then he went down a flight of stairs to the ground floor and out the doors into the morning sunshine. It was unexpectedly chilly.

Roy was waiting at the bottom of the stone steps, wearing his black cloak. He only ever wore that cloak when he expected it to rain. Edward gave the sky a brief, disinterested look. The sky was a light, august blue and the clouds were few, but white. There was no foretelling of rain.

He walked carefully down the steps and joined Mustang at the bottom. "No one else?" He asked, mildly surprised. Often, when someone was due to be interrogated, there was a team of four or five.

"Just us." Mustang replied enigmatically. "Can you manage the distance?"

The question was patronizing. "Of course I bloody well can! Do I look crippled to you?"

Mustang looked him up and down with a small smile as if to say; 'yes.' Edward knew that a man with metal limbs wasn't exactly normal.

"This way then." And Roy started off without further ado.

Edward followed beside him, trying to keep in-step due to his much smaller stature. The streets weren't busy, and there were few automobiles around. The fresh air was cool on his face, even if it did make his nose sting a little.

"I'll question Mrs. Hunt." The Führer said after a time of comfortable silence. "I want you to sit and watch. That's all. And if you think she is lying, I trust you to get the information out of her."

"Me? Why me and not another one of your goons?"

"Führer?" Spoke a voice. They both looked up at a petty officer running their way with a fistful of paper files in his hand. Roy groaned aloud and pinched his eyes shut with one hand as if he already knew what it was about. Had Roy forgotten to file something away? What?

As Edward stood, staring, he heard someone call him over.

A bleak looking car, tatty and old, was parked up at the curb. The window to the passenger's side slid down.

Curious, Edward walked on over while Roy began to argue with the petty officer about something or other.

When he got close enough, he saw a familiar face poke out from the window. It was Louis Armstrong. Why he was in such an old piece-of-shit of a car, Edward truly had no idea.

"Edward!" Louis said. His voice was off-kilter, as if he either had a cold, or was drunk. In fact, his face was off-kilter. He wore dark sunglasses and his cheeks looked rubbery, and strangely out of shape.

"Major!" Edward said at once. "You..."

"Get in at once!" Armstrong said, keeping his voice low despite the adamant urgency in his words. "It's your brother! He was taken in ill a short while ago! We must take you to the hospital!"

Edward drew in a horrid gasp, and his heart accelerated dangerously. "My... my b-brother? Oh god! What happened!"

"No time to explain. We need to get you to him, immediately!"

Edward looked to Roy Mustang, who was still in the middle of an argument with the officer ten or so yards away. He was looking through the papers with mounting anger as if he had been presented with paperwork written in poop. The petty officer looked on, looking stupid and awkward.

Edward turned back to the beaten-up automobile. He would have to call Roy later, and apologize for ditching him. If his brother was in trouble, then he'd go, no questions asked.

"All right. Explain everything to me on the way." He opened the back passenger door and slipped in. He shut the door behind him, and the automobile cranked up the road, coughing out gas as it went.

"You take this junk back!" Roy crammed the bits of paper back into the officer's arms. "I do not want to hear any more of it, you hear?"

The officer nodded and went swiftly away.

"Politics, Fullmetal. Politics. The joys of working your way up the ranks." He turned, expecting to see Edward staring up at him judgementally again, or at least shrugging off the nonsense entirely, when he laid eyes on no Edward at all. "Fullmetal?" He gazed about the street and buildings, expecting to see the young, small Colonel chatting to a fellow alchemist, or taking in the sights, as he usually did when he got bored.

But he had just... gone.

"Fullmetal!" He shouted, angrily this time. "Fullmetal! Goddamn it!"

But he was nowhere to be seen.

It looked like he had abandoned his duty altogether. It was not quite unlike Edward. All the same, Roy knew it didn't feel right.

Angry, he marched over to D block on his own, thinking that Edward had got ahead of him, and would be there waiting for him. But he wasn't there either.

The first few drops had started to fall.

It had begun to rain.

 **xxxxxxxxxxx**

Much later, it grew dark. The sun had softened into creams and reds as it melted over the horizon. Roy sat, dispirited at his desk. He was annoyed because if Edward kept up his behaviour, he would have to be disciplined, and run the risk of losing his rank. He had had to question Mrs. Hunt on his own, and he still hadn't squeezed the information out of her.

All because of that runt.

And he hadn't returned to his desk either.

The damn pipsqueak had absconded for the day, it seemed.

"Fuck this." He grabbed his cloak and was about to head out the door to go home when his desk phone started ringing. He suspected it to be Edward. Who else would ring at such a late hour when the office was closed? The brat was probably ready to apologize after perfecting his little 'speech.'

He jerked the phone to his ear and shouted into the mouthpiece; "Yes? Who the hell is it? Fullmetal, if it's you, help me God..."

"H-hello?" The voice he got in return was small. And shy even.

Roy halted his tirade at once and blinked several times, his hot anger withering spontaneously. He knew that voice. "Alphonse Elric? Is that... you?"

"Y-Yes it is. I was wondering, is Ed coming home soon? He's never usually this late and I... well... I made him dinner... but he's not here, so... I was wondering..."

Roy looked up at the clock across his desk on the wall. It had gone nine.

He could hear the soft drone of rain as it pattered above him on the roof as the heavens opened. It was almost completely dark outside now. All Roy could really see was the soft light of the streetlamps along the road through his window.

"He's not home?" Roy felt stupid for asking it.

"No."

"He's not at the office either, Alphonse. Is there somewhere else he would be, do you suppose?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Edward's brother considered this. Then he said, "No. He comes straight home after work, every day. He doesn't go or do anything else, sir. Honest."

* * *

 **Dib07:**

Reviews are greatly appreciated! Do not hesitate to drop in your thoughts. Want more? Just say.


	2. No One Knows

**Opening Doors by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

Post-Fullmetal Alchemist series.

 _To think that he may never have opened that door._

 **Warnings:**

\- Much of this story will contain mature and/or dark content not suitable for younger readers. Do not be frightened by what I write, but I am an adult writer and I do not shy away from what others may otherwise do so. Also, Edward. Yes. Edward.

 **Pairings:**

\- Parental. There may be some moments between characters, but there is no romantic connection.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Neither do I make a profit. I write this out of my own time.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: No One Knows  
**

Roy wasn't sure what to say, which irked him. He was the goddamn Gospel of answers and solutions. And most likely Edward was dicking around someplace. Having a drink maybe, or he had found a hot babe. He didn't know what he did in his spare time!

Despite shoring up these excuses in his head, Roy knew deep down that something was wrong, and that it went against Edward's nature to fail to return home. He had disappeared during his job without a trace – and had been out of contact all day. Where had he gone?

"Maybe he's gone to see Winry?" The suggestion was a weak one at best, but Roy was used to thinking methodically. When something went missing, it usually was never missing at all. It had just got misplaced.

"I'll try to contact her." Came the wane reply. "Just... if you see him... tell him to ring me straight away."

"Right. Get back to me if you get hold of him, Alphonse." And he placed the phone back on its cradle.

He rubbed tiresomely at his temples with his hand. Great. Just great.

After grabbing his dark cloak, he made a personal effort to visit every desk; every office to make sure Edward wasn't sulking about someplace. He doubted he would be, but the Fullmetal Alchemist was sometimes unpredictable and eccentric when it came to cases and work in general. But, much to his expectations, there was no Edward. The offices were quiet, dark and lonely.

He began to worry for the first time that night. Edward would not run off without informing his brother first, surely?

He hung about the office indecisively and then called Hawkeye.

"Urm... Hawkeye, good evening, sorry to trouble you. Have you seen Fullmetal, by chance?"

"Why, no, I haven't." He could hear jostling pots and pans in the background. No doubt she was trying to make a late dinner for herself. "Should I have seen him?"

"No. No. I'm sorry I called. It's just... he hasn't turned up at home yet. I'm sure Alphonse is just anxious. You know how he gets."

"Strange."

"Yes, it is."

"Give me another call in an hour or so." She said, trying to sound professional. "If there's still no sign of him, we're going to need to inform everybody in Central. And that means sending out patrols. And then we'll have to file him as 'Missing.'"

The word left Roy feeling unhinged. Fullmetal, missing? What a laugh! That screwball never went far.

"Y-Yes." Was all that could spill out of his mouth.

"Well, speak to you soon. I hope he turns up."

There was a click on the other end of the line, and then silence.

Roy put the phone down and sighed. "Shit." It was turning into a really cruddy night. "Thanks Fullmetal." He whispered. "I hope for your sake that you are missing, or help me God I am going to bury you alive for making me worry."

Alchemists weren't exactly everyone's favourite representative or ambassador. It was possible that Edward had got into trouble, but Roy doubted it. Edward was the Fullmetal Alchemist. He was too sharp for his own good, and he was smart and strong. He also had a good following, being the 'people's champion' and all. Besides, the young idiot had probably got consumed in something or other, and had lost track of the time.

Roy checked about the office one last time, feeling like a fool. There was no one there. Not even a janitor.

He walked home in the dark feeling out of place, as if all purpose had seeped from his very bones. When he got home, he dumped his keys on the table and popped open a bottle of beer. He gazed dumbly into the contents of his fridge and didn't feel very hungry for anything from his menu of things.

Instead he sat down in the dark of the parlour with one candle flickering away on the mantelpiece, drinking chilled beer and keeping a stern eye on the time. Fifteen minutes crawled by. Then forty minutes. Still no phone call from either Hawkeye or Alphonse.

"Shit."

This was spoiling his evening. Not that he had much of an evening these days.

Roy swallowed down more beer and leaned over to use the phone by his chair. It was standing on a little oak table that gleamed with polish. He painstakingly dialled the numbers and waited.

"Pick up, pick up."

There was a resounding click, and the shy, hopeful voice of Alphonse on the other end. "Any word? Have you found him?"

It was sad to crush so sweet a spirit. "I'm sorry Alphonse. Still no sign. I called Riza and she's looking into it, but I'm afraid we're going to have to file him as MIA if we don't hear anything of his whereabouts soon. And if that's the case," he added quickly before Al could get a word in, "We'll be sending out search parties. Tonight. I'll be leading the first team. Any idea where to look first?"

There was silence on the other end, of which Roy was expecting. He could imagine Alphonse sitting on his chair in his parlour across the street, confused and upset. Most likely the boy was in denial, or too dumbstruck to really take it all in.

"Alphonse?" Roy repeated more firmly. "Are you still there?"

"Y-Yes..."

Roy closed his eyes for a moment and realized that he needed to try and assuage the boy's widening fears. He was no good at this. No good at all. Tenderness and reassurance did not come naturally to him. He had lived a hard life for a long time, and took things as they came. Life was a bitch, and you either took it head on, or you fled from it like a coward. "Look, no doubt Fullmetal has gotten lost, the nitwit, or he might have... had an accident. These are very common factors for someone going missing. Perhaps you would like to join the search party with me? And before long we'll find that little scumbag together. What do you say?"

He waited. And waited. Finally there came a tentative; "All... all right. It's just... this isn't like brother at all. Not at all." Roy could imagine him shaking his head and looking about the room dimly, flabbergasted. Then it occurred to him that Alphonse had never been on his own. Edward had always been there. Yes, Alphonse was at home when Edward went to work, but the separation was never for very long, besides which, Ed was always a phone call away.

"The sack of shit might have just fainted in some street corner. Drunk." Roy felt uneasy saying this, since Edward had been missing most, if not all of the day, and he hadn't even took any particular interest in it, which made him feel acutely responsible. "Hold on, Alphonse. Let me ring Hawkeye, and list him as MIA. Then I'll swing by and we'll go out looking for him."

"All right..." The reply was so tiny, so miserable.

Roy reluctantly put the phone down, dialled up Riza's number and picked it up.

 **xxxx**

As it turned out, they never did find Edward hunkered over a barstool, drinking away. Neither did they find him curled up in some street corner, or wandering around, lost, in the city.

They didn't find him at all.

Or one scrap of evidence to suggest where he had gone.

Roy felt an increasing flood of guilt that started slow in his gut which then grew ferociously until he was practically drowning. Alphonse sat beside him in the car, and as dawn began to break and there was still no sign of Edward, he had cried and cried inconsolably.

"Hey kid, he'll turn up." Roy said, cranking out some more stupid advice that was about as hopeful as willing grit to turn into emeralds. "You know he never goes very far."

Deep inside, Roy had half expected to find Edward's corpse in some back alley. But they hadn't.

"Something's terrible happened! I know it has!" It was hard to understand the young boy. He was crying so hard that it was tricky to hear his words. His face was hot and red, and his eyes were streaming with salty tears. He had used up all of Roy's tissues in the glovebox of the car.

"Hey, he knows how to defend himself if he gets into a fix. You've both been through some pretty dire situations, am I right? The guy's got automail, Alphonse! He can beat the living shit out of a car if he fancied it!"

The young boy had no heart for jokes, and he broke down afresh in tears.

Roy parked outside a bakery that hadn't even opened yet. The shutters were all down, as it was with the other shops opposite. The search party was still on-going, and would continue to do so until he called them off. They would work in shifts, combing through the city, the parks, the woodland areas, the train stations, all of it, until they found nothing, or something. As for Roy, he had no intention of sleeping even though he had been awake for over twenty three hours now. How could he sleep, knowing that Edward was still out there, possibly hurt, and in danger? Or had he fled town? Abandoned the military?

Roy tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

No. Edward had not absconded his duties. He would rather cut his last remaining limbs off than leave Alphonse alone.

So something had happened to him, this much Roy had considered. But what? How could such a popular man of the military simply... disappear? And right from under Mustang's nose?

The guilt returned, harder. The guilt had never disappeared, would never disappear, even if they found the blonde bastard. But every time his thoughts went back to that morning, walking to D block, turning to see him gone, the shame seemed to swallow him up until he was sweating and shivering in his seat. He had failed as the Führer to protect one of his own. What did that make him?

 _If I don't find him soon,_ he thought with self-loathing and dread, _then I'm demoting myself. I won't be able to look myself in the mirror until I find that lousy good-for-nothing Elric!_

"We need to get you home Alphonse." He turned to the snivelling, dejected boy. He tried very hard to sound calm and restrained. Alphonse needed hope right now, and confidence in getting Edward back. Roy needed to be strong, for both their sakes.

"N-No!" He sobbed. He was pressing his hands against his face, but even so Roy could understand his words. "Mustn't g-give up!"

"Hey, who said anything about giving up?" Roy patted him on the shoulder, feeling awkward at the whole 'comfort' department. It made him think how brutish he would have come off as at being a father. He could be kind, and fair, but he couldn't be soft or gentle. Life had hardened him too much to be otherwise. "I'm going to carry on searching, and so is my team. But I want you to go home, have some coffee and relax. I'll find him. You have my word."

"Don't m-make p-promises you c-can't keep!" He muffled in-between the tears as his whole body shook with them.

Roy gave his back another awkward pat before he drew away. "It's times like these that life really tests us, huh?"

Al gave no reply. He merely went on crying.

"Have hope. It's early yet." Roy backed out of the parking lot slowly and pulled out onto the main road. Sudden nausea clenched him unforgivingly and if it wasn't for Alphonse occupying his passenger seat, he could have got out in preparation to eject his rebellious bodily fluids. But he held it all in, like a Führer must do, and drove Alphonse slowly home.

By now the sun was peeking over the metal horizon and the tallest buildings caught its red wink as it crept up higher. The shadows deepened and then shrunk to little dark pools. The birds were in a raucous of song, but neither Roy nor Al appreciated the birdsong that morning.

Images of yesterday blinded Roy much of the time as he drove down the road.

Edward hadn't exactly been normal that day, what with falling against his desk rather heavily and coughing like he was getting sick.

Mustang's own words echoed accusingly in his head as if he had been delivering nothing but death sentences:

 _'Just as well I'm not sending you out into the field today, with a bashed nose like that. Clean yourself up and we'll go down to D block.'_

 _'No one else?'_

 _'Just us. Can you manage the distance?'_

 _'Of course I bloody well can! Do I look crippled to you?'_

No one else had been around. And if that stupid petty officer hadn't have distracted him...

The only way Edward could have got away so fast was if he had hopped into a car, and was driven off, or if he ran and leapt behind a building for purposes unknown.

Roy tapped on the steering wheel as they neared Alphonse's road.

If Edward had done a runner, the sound of his automail would have given him away.

He must have been picked up by a car.

Roy narrowed his eyes. Edward was no idiot. He knew well enough not to get into a car with a stranger. So it must have been with someone he knew... Even so... if it HAD been a stranger, Edward was one tough little guy.

Roy parked outside the little Elric home. In the early dawn sunshine it looked bright and welcoming. The pink roses were all out in early bloom, and though the grass was trimmed right down, it still looked lush and very green. On the patio was a white swing chair that could accommodate two people.

"Your stop, Alphonse." Roy said gently. Alphonse undid his seatbelt awkwardly – he could barely see through his tears – then he threw open the door and stumbled out into the daylight. He more or less ran down the little path up the picketed fencing and to the front door in a great hurry. He fumbled out some keys, and before Roy knew it, the boy had dived inside and had slammed the door closed.

Roy sat, looking at the swing seat for a few moments through his windshield, trying to recollect his thoughts.

 _Fuck. Should've handcuffed Fullmetal to me all day yesterday._

He pulled out and drove down the road. He started to feel a little bitter towards Edward. How could Fullmetal just... disappear without saying anything? It was all his damn fault!

Still, a few miles down the road, Roy had to stop. He pulled up outside someone's driveway and hurried out, leaning against the open door of his car. Then he threw up all over the pavement.

When he got back to the office, full of dismay and hate towards himself for having inexplicably lost one of his own, there was a phone call from Havoc waiting for him. He rushed to it and shouted down the line;

"Yes, what is it? Any news of Fullmetal?"

"Sir, you're not going to believe this."

"What? Well, what is it?" Roy had absolutely no time to play games. Answers had to come immediately. He was at his lowest point, with all patience gone sour.

"We've found something."

"For God's sake, Lt. Havoc, out with it!"

"We've found Fullmetal's leg in a field, sir. His automail leg."


	3. Spiralling

**Opening Doors by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

Post-Fullmetal Alchemist series.

 _To think that he may never have opened that door._

 **Warnings:**

\- Much of this story will contain mature and/or dark content not suitable for younger readers. Do not be frightened by what I write, but I am an adult writer and I do not shy away from what others may otherwise do so. Also, Edward. Yes. Edward.

* * *

 **Guest:** Touché! I too have looked at some kidnapping fics myself and have been displeased at what I saw. Some are good, don't get me wrong, but others not so much. Each to his own. And I have to say, I feel complimented when you say that you find it a bit scary so far. I hope to achieve a darker aspect. And I am confident to say this fic is going to be quite a black sheep. So if you want to stay for the ride, I hope you're ready for the drop. :) Thanks for thinking of me so highly. I hope I continue to impress. The characters inspire me so much.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Spiralling  
**

"For God's sake, Lt. Havoc, out with it!"

"We've found Fullmetal's leg, sir. His automail leg."

"WHAT? WHERE?"

"In the local fields. You know, up in the north where Hemlock River is. Hawkeye usually walks her dog along it." He paused, expecting an inchoate reply. There was silence on the other end. "Mustang? Hello? Mustang?"

Roy stood there for several moments, stock-still as if he had been frozen in stone. Then he dropped the phone, shoved his arms in his black coat and was running across the hallway. He almost went flying into Hawkeye, who have him an appraising look. Her arms were loaded up in mundane paperwork that to him, as of this moment, meant as much as soil.

"Come with me!" He shouted at her, and, loyal as she was, she dropped her papers and ran with him.

His driving was skittish and ugly as the car went ploughing down the roads, often overtaking every other car they met with.

Hawkeye sat in the passenger seat, barely looking at the road. Her intentions were on him, but she said nothing. She suspected what it was that he had discovered, and relented from disturbed his racing thoughts.

He went through a signal light and kept going. The traffic was a blur. The car felt like it was flying along the asphalt. Hawkeye gently reached out and placed a hand on Roy's arm. His eyes were like hardened rocks of onyx, but he squeezed on the brakes and the car slowed to a more sensible speed as they approached the River of Hemlock.

The sun was extending its farewells. Roy wished it was brighter, wished he had more time to see the field in daylight.

He parked haphazardly, almost skewering his car with that of Lt. Havoc's. His and Armstrong's car was already parked in a little recess by the main field. There was another car there as well, but Roy didn't care for it. Without waiting for Hawkeye to get out or even to lock his automobile, he was off, dashing over a muddy field that was still boggy from last night's rain. It was easy to determine where he needed to go. Lt. Havoc, Armstrong and two other men were standing in the desolate field near the river looking terribly out of place. Blue uniforms against a backdrop of green and brown. Yellow strips of paper tape cordoned off a large section of field in a giant square, but the wind had already loosened one section. Mostly likely the tape would blow off completely by morning.

Roy got to them, out of breath. He resisted the urge to bent forwards, hands on his knees, but it took him many moments before he returned the salute they were all giving him: grimed faced as they were.

"You got here... quick." Lt. Havoc said with idle curiosity, a cigarette jutting loosely out of the corner of his mouth. "I just called five minutes ag..."

"Yes, yes! Now do your duty and show me Fullmetal's leg!"

Hawkeye blanched, but on the plus side, seemed relieved straight afterwards, believing that Roy had sped all the way here because they had found the corpse of Edward Elric. This was not quite so, yet.

In the midst of the investigators, undisturbed and relatively untouched, was an automail left leg. It lay in the grass and mud like a sacrificial thing. It shone dully, with mud caked into its crevices and fissures. It was half bent at the knee, the toes all accounted for, the heel imbedded in the mud as if it had been thrown down to rest.

When Roy looked down upon it, a small hope emerged like an air bubble rising towards the top of the water's surface. What if it wasn't Ed's automail at all? Automail wasn't a rare thing to have these days, what with conflicts, mining incidents and the aftermath of war. But his hope was a thin, fickle thing indeed. When he looked down upon it, he knew that it was Edward's before Armstrong had even opened his mouth.

"Führer, sir," said Armstrong, his eyes looking very sad and downcast, "a farmer found it an hour ago and reported it to the military thinking it to be a prank. We got here right away."

"Have you searched the area for more..." ...parts. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. His eyes flickered down to the metal leg.

"We have. Extensively. Our detective has been combing the river for more finds."

"It can't be Edward's." Havoc said almost cheerily. "No way."

"Did you measure it?" Roy snapped at them.

"Yes sir," returned Armstrong. "It's 24 inches from heel to thigh. It's Edward's all right. No one I know has smaller automail, and if I remember correctly, the measurement was the same on his latest health report."

Roy squatted down beside the object, his eyes locked onto the metal leg. It looked so alien, to lay here without a body. There were various dents and scrapes all over it. Not from recent maliciousness, but from Edward's recent history. A bang there, a ding here. There was one long dent running down the calf plating when Edward had been staggered back by one of Armstrong's mock battles. Edward had never beaten Armstrong, but they both had been fighting hard for whatever reason. Pride? To best enough? To impress the Führer? And Roy had noticed the cut then and there when Edward had gone into the showers. If it had been on his normal leg, the cut from one of Armstrong's rock spikes would have cut him to the bone.

"What the fuck is it doing here?" Havoc scratched at his head, pondering with a sullen look in his eyes.

"Maybe the poor boy has been taken from us by our enemies!" Armstrong was suddenly wailing like a child. "Oh the unbearable pain! To think that someone has abducted him! And taking him apart!"

Roy let them go about their sorrows. He really didn't care.

Hawkeye was beside him in a flash. She too was looking over the limb.

There was no blood on the stump where it ended to join up with the thigh. In fact, there was no evidence of foul play. This perplexed Roy. It had been taken off carefully. But why had it been dumped here, in the middle of nowhere?

"Perhaps Edward came by this way?" Riza suggested. "And dropped this off as a means to find him?"

Roy shook his head. "As much as I want to believe that, it isn't so. Look at the field, Hawkeye. Aside from Armstrong and Havoc trampling about the goddamn place, there are no other signs of footprints from Fullmetal. And his one leg as he hopped along, or at least his automail leg, would have been heavier, pressing easily into the mud. But there is nothing. There are lots of footprints around here, but nothing to suggest extra weight. There is however tire tracks."

Hawkeye stood up and looked. Sure enough tire tracks came close to the automail leg, but the two State Alchemists had done a good job trampling about the place, as indeed had the farmer when he had come up to find the leg.

"It was carried, and dumped here purposely." Roy continued with determined deduction. "But why? And so close to Central? If they wanted to keep us guessing, they could have gone up-state, and dumped it somewhere far, far away!"

"It could mean that Edward is still alive, whoever took him! They must have a motive!" Hawkeye argued, visibly pale despite the red of the evening light showering the scene. "Maybe they'll ring and request a ransom!"

Roy gave her a very curious look. When he did, her emotions quietened and she returned the stare with a calmer demeanour.

Roy stood erect. The leg looked so sad, and stupidly out of place. Like finding a dead animal in a child's playroom. He swallowed down a rising lump in his throat.

"We'll take it back with us to Central, and investigate it further. I want the rest of you to continue searching the area for more clues, even in the dark."

"Yes sir." The two men answered with resolute salutes. He knew they would not stop until he personally called them off. Their dedication was something to be admired. They weren't doing it out of orders. They were doing it because they loved Edward, despite the little alchemist's shortcomings. And it made him all the angrier towards whoever did this. He had never castrated anyone before, but when he found them, he was going to try and bloody well do it.

"And Alphonse?" Hawkeye asked out of the corner of his eye.

"What about him?" Roy growled. He bent down and gathered the leg into his arms. It was heavy, as was to be expected. The thought of one so little tolerating such a weight pulled at his mind. The joints clicked and clacked smoothly at the ankle, toes and knee, while the calf and part of the thigh were solid and true.

He carried it back with him to the car, face darkened with grief.

 **xxxxxx**

The sky was as dark as black coffee. Riza Hawkeye made no complaint about staying. She could have been at home, taking a shower and going to bed. But she did not.

Roy had the leg on a wide, bare table. It had been cleaned and polished until it shone bright once more under the florid lamps. It may have been a bad move, washing away potential evidence. But he needed to know what was underneath the grime, and he felt that time was against them. If Edward HAD been captured, he could die. There were nasty, cruel men out there, men who had agendas, plots. Murder on their minds. Roy was sure he'd go stark raving mad if the next thing they found was Edward, cold, and very dead.

"What are you trying to find, sir?"

"I don't know." The Führer stated miserably. He had turned the leg over and over. The metal remained as blank as before.

 _I'm wasting my time._ He thought with self-hate.

Knowingly, she passed him a magnifying glass. He gazed at her, gormlessly for a moment. Then he glided the magnifying glass over the leg, inch by inch with sweat-inducing concentration.

At the bottom of the automail's calf, before it joined up with the huge ankle joint were tiny scratches. At first Roy couldn't figure them out, until he realized he was looking at letters and not random scratches at all. He peered closer, reading them allowed as he scrutinised them; "M-E-R."

"Mer?" She said, raising a speculative eyebrow.

Roy drew back, astonished, his mind trying to grapple for the answer unspoken. "Mer?"

His finger traced over the indents. They had been scratched into the metal with haste. the lines were sharp – abrasive.

Riza looked at Roy with terrible solemnity. "He scratched those in letters. Probably with a coin or a screw. Which means he might not have been bound. Either way, Edward may have been trying to warn us of something."

"But what? What does 'Mer' mean, dammit?"

"It is very likely, sir, that he was unable to finish what he was inscribing."

"Yes, yes that makes sense." Roy stared at the inscription with irritation. MER? MER? Could Edward have meant Merry? Mercedes? Mermaid? Mere?

Edward was incredibly smart. The three letters had to mean something specific, but what?

"Well, at least we know we're dealing with a kidnapping." Riza said, folding her arms, "which is a lot more than we knew yesterday. If this keeps up, we may just find him. Dead or alive." She paused to gather her thoughts, and then added sternly, "You will inform Alphonse of this, won't you?"

He nodded. "Yes. I suppose I must. It is my duty to inform him of all that I find, even if he won't like it."

 **xxxxxx**

The next day was pursued by the same poisoned desolation. Hawkeye was out taking notes from Roy's observations as they both strained over the area leading up to D block. The police were involved, as was a genuine detective named Ian Stone. Louis Armstrong would occasionally return with a tray full of tea in plastic cups. Roy didn't even taste the tea when he drank it down, but he did appreciate the warmth it brought.

Ever since yesterday evening, the winds had picked up and the temperature of the weather had dropped. More rain was predicted in the south.

"He could have just left, you know." Hawkeye hadn't been the first officer to suggest this, and neither would he be the last. Many were thinking that Elric's sudden 'vanishing' act had been one of desertion. Now and again someone went AWOL, but that was mostly during times of war. And there hadn't been a war in over ten years.

To think that such a hot-spirited alchemist like Edward had merely run away with one leg was a joke.

Ian Stone was one of those stern, seen-it-all-before types, and didn't like to be hurried for results. He had spent a particular amount of time near the road at the curb by the military's warehouses only some one hundred yards from Central itself. Many cars came in and out, mostly for transporting officers from place to place, and then there would be the delivery trucks, and the postman.

"There was something about Fullmetal before he disappeared." Roy placed his empty cup back on Armstrong's tray. He stared deep into Havoc's eyes. "He was the clumsy idiot as always, but he seemed... distracted. Even a little unhealthy. He was late reporting in that morning, and he was flustered. Truth is, he's always flustered about something. I don't know, Havoc. I should have paid better attention. But as to your earlier question, no, I do not think he simply 'ran away.'"

"But you were right with him, Führer." Armstrong said, "Why didn't he say anything to you? Surely it would have taken just a moment?"

"Yes, I know, it's odd. It was like he was in a great hurry to be going someplace." Roy scratched at his head in thought. To be honest, he had already been going over this problem in a perpetual circle, over and over in the hopes of finding something, but he never did. "Has that detective found anything unusual yet?"

"Nothing, my Führer." Armstrong truly looked sad, and distraught. Upon hearing the initial news before the 'leg incident' he hadn't wanted to believe it. He had fled his office, looking for the little blondie in case he had been missed or overlooked. Such things weren't that uncommon with a man so small. But the truth caught up to him, and he hadn't brightened up since.

It was curious how one little member had affected Central. "Nothing at all. No footprints, no witnesses, no signs."

"Right."

He sighed. Alphonse was waiting for the call: the call to confirm the findings of his brother, or the lack of it. He hadn't reacted well at all when he had seen his brother's leg. Roy had had to cover it back up again with cloth before taking it back to his car.

"At least there hasn't been a body." Havoc muttered quietly so that only Roy and Armstrong could hear. "So it's hopeful, isn't it?"

Roy turned his back on them and walked away. "I'll consider it 'hopeful' when we locate him, safe and sound."

 **xxxxxxxx**

The days passed. And the days turned into weeks.

The investigation cooled off, though there were still many officers working around the clock for any leads on their little Fullmetal. But other duties had to be carried out, and dealt with. The whole of Command couldn't simply stop due to the absence of one member even though Roy wished it otherwise. He struggled with his work, and often found himself staring into nothing as he sat at his desk with piles of unanswered letters and assignments on his desk with a bottle of whiskey beside the stacks of paper. He felt that time was spinning out of his control as he sat, as still as stone.

Sometimes he couldn't get through to Alphonse. He expected the young boy to be out investigating on his own, and finding anything he could in the city. He was not the type to wallow at home and wait for news.

Roy picked up his bottle of whiskey. He had forgone tumblers long ago, and just drank straight from the bottle. The taste didn't affect him as it did all those weeks ago. It was the numbness that came with it that he was so addicted to.

After taking four big swigs, he settled the bottle back down and haphazardly wrote a scrawl that was supposed to be his signature on one of the letters. He hadn't even read the damn thing.

In exhaustion and disgust he pushed the letter away. He was the Führer. It was his job to keep Central on top. His job to set things right, and keep things from spilling over when a catastrophe occurred. But he was failing even at that. He could take time off, but what would he do then? Fly awake after another nightmare? Flounder about the parlour with a bottle of gin in one hand and a picture of Fullmetal in the other?

If he stayed in Central, he would get the latest news, if there was any...

If there was any...

 _He's been killed, I know it._ His hooded eyes strayed to the bottle. Its dull brown glass caught the light of the bulb on the ceiling, making it shine. _He must have. If he'd run into trouble, he'd have found a way to contact me or his brother. It's been four weeks, and no sign. We go back to work like nothing's happened, hoping he'll just turn up. I can't believe I miss the runt this much. I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't!_

Out of blind rage he picked up his newest replacement-friend; the whiskey bottle, and threw it against the far wall, above his filing cabinet. The brown liquor exploded across the plaster like blood as pieces of razor-sharp glass rained down everywhere.

Upon seeing it smash, his instant afterthought was; gotta buy me another one.

Instead he cowered where he sat, blaming Fullmetal for everything.

His office door opened as fresh whiskey still ran down it in drips. Riza looked in on him with disdain on her face. Then she turned and saw the mess on the cabinet and wall.

Roy waited for the reprimands, the lectures. It was all she gave him these days.

Instead, her voice was unmistakably soft. "Go home, Roy. Get some rest."

~ Two weeks later ~

"Who have we got this time?" Roy tiredly looked over the report, but in all honestly he could barely read the charges. He was lucid, and numb from the drink, but no matter how much he put away, he could never get that sky-high feeling, or emotional freedom. Sometimes it only made him want to cry.

"The diamond trafficking asshole! We did it, Mustang! We got the bastard!" Havoc looked too damn cheerful. Too damn eager. "His old hag of a mother protected him, and yeah, we had to let her go. Not enough evidence that she was even involved, even though we knew it was her. But it doesn't matter now! We have the real deal! The criminal that's been below our radar for nearly a year!" Havoc just spewed out the words. Roy was barely keeping up.

They were walking down a cold, airily lit corridor. It was seven minutes past nine at night. Roy was done-in, and just wanted to cuddle up in bed and sleep on the waves of his own drunkenness. But work had to step in and cause a bit more hell before he could crawl away into some hole.

Ever since losing Edward, he had struggled to care about anything. He wept when no one was watching, and barely ate. Riza came over to his house often, if only to make him dinner to encourage his failing appetite.

"His name?" Roy sighed.

"That's the thing... he just won't give it. And we have a suspicion he's been working in a group. There's no way he could have handled this trafficking all by himself. But we don't know how many members, or their skill."

"Fine. Is he strapped up?"

"Yes. I did it, just in case. He's a strange one, Mustang. And he knows alchemy."

"Very well."

Roy and Havoc stopped in front of the iron interrogation door. There was a small gap near the top covered in bars, but Roy didn't waste his time looking in. He threw the door open and marched into the room.

Sitting by the metal table was a strange man indeed. It was hard to get a read on him. He was pale, confident in his posture, with black curly hair and a charming, handsome young face. His eyes however were small, flinty and dark. He watched as Roy and Havoc entered the room. Lieutenant Ross was already there, standing in the back with her arms folded.

The table was plain and bare, and shone from the light above.

Roy dumped the heavy file onto the table and sat down at once opposite the young man. His drowsiness was no good, he knew, and if Riza knew how stoned he was today, she most likely would have beaten him with her own gun. Luckily she was away on duty.

"I hear you were trying to sell diamonds today." Roy spoke first, without even looking at their captive. "You were getting sloppy. We've been on your trail for months now and you didn't think of moving town?"

"You don't scare me." Returned the man with his flinty stare. "I can sell what I like."

"The substances inside the diamonds are toxic and illegal. You think something like that wouldn't get under our noses?"

The man shrugged when Roy cast a look his way. "We use rare herbs, not deadly substances at all. They calm people. Make them soft and stupid. Many people who suffer the stresses of life can't get enough of them."

"What's your name?"

"I have many names. But what people like to call me most is simply: Lord Mercy."

Roy actually looked at him, and one corner of his mouth tilted upward in the beginnings of a stiff smile. "What are you, insane?"

"I cannot help it if that is my name." Replied their captive with terrible seriousness.

"Did your mother call you that name, by chance?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact she did."

Roy quickly flicked through the files. His mother had been found, and interrogated. But he had been too drunk and too full of black hate and loss to really take anything in. Sure enough, in amongst the notes taken during the interview, a 'Lord Mercy' was present in the scrawl.

Roy ignored his own mistake and riveted his drunken attention back on 'Mercy.' "Odd name. Why didn't you give it to my Lieutenant when asked?"

"Because they asked rudely." Returned Lord Mercy. "I do not react well to people who do not mind their manners."

Roy sat back in his chair, taking this usual suspect into perspective. There was little to read. Mercy stared back blankly in all readiness, it seemed.

"Why were you selling diamonds, Lord Mercy?"

"Because a lot of people like pretty things, don't they... Lieutenant?..."

"Führer." Roy corrected him.

"Of course." Mercy said with a thin, crooked smile. "Yes, I myself am a victim to pretty things. I cannot help myself. But when I have it, I cannot help but mar it, maim it. I don't know why really. Oh yes I'll keep it pretty for as long as I like. As for the herbs, I've already said what they do."

Roy sighed impatiently. "The diamonds, Mercy. I don't care what else, herbs or no. Pretty diamonds they may be, but why the chemical? It can kill, and we certainly don't endorse it. Do you mean to sell it as a weapon?"

"Oh goodness no, nothing like that." At that he smiled as if he could hardly take the Führer seriously, and found it hopelessly funny to do so. "We like to fund ourselves, keep ourselves wealthy. We acquire the diamonds from the mines in the west, and transport them down here. Then we mix in some chemicals, add it together, and do some alchemy! Such fun! Then we sell them off to help people. To soothe them. Make them... numb."

"It's an attack." Roy said bluntly. "On us. On the military. On the State."

Mercy laughed. "Oh what imagination you have! I wish my objectives were as directed and as industrial as you say, but really they are not. If I wanted to destroy the military, well, I would go different ways about it. For a start I'd put it all in your food. Not diamonds. No. I just want to calm the neighbourhood. All the same, it really makes no difference to me. Money is all in the great scheme of things."

"You like to toy with people..." Roy's head was starting to clear. How was this man admitting to everything so quickly? Without a fight? There had to be a catch. It seemed too easy, too simple, almost as if this man wanted to get captured. Wanted to confess.

"Yes, I do, I suppose. For their own good, mind." Mercy continued. Roy safely gathered that he liked to talk. "I think that if there was less people in this city, we'd all be better off, wouldn't we? Less stress and order for all."

"Right, right." Roy rubbed at his aching head and tried to write some things down, but much of the information just seemed to spill away again. "And who else are you working with?"

"It doesn't matter who else I am working with, does it?" His eyes flashed over to Havoc, then back to Roy's. "I never trust them. Once I got the diamonds, I dismissed the ones who weren't useful. The depraved I kept with me, and they stayed at home, to fuck with whomever they pleased. And I liked to watch. And if it excited me enough, I joined in."

Roy swallowed hard. He had heard enough. "Get him out of here. Throw him in the cell furthest from the door."

Havoc went round the table and hauled Mercy to his feet. "Good evening to you both." Mercy had the gall to say as if he was an admirable guest. "I hope to see you soon."

"Get going." And Havoc kicked him forwards.

Once he had gone, Roy looked dejectedly at Ross. "Where did you guys find him?"

"We were lucky, sir." She said. "We had just finished checking Jewel Street, as you requested, and we saw this guy leaving this posh estate with two big cases. Anyway, as we looked on, one of the cases popped open and all these diamonds came flooding out. We put two and two together, and Armstrong and I grabbed him. The thing is, he never made a run for it. He was calm the whole time."

Roy let out a yawn. He hadn't meant to, but it was late and he wanted to go home. "And his house?"

"The door was shut, and we figured that since we had him, we'd take him to Central straight away. Besides, we needed a warrant to go inside. So I applied for one as soon as we returned. It should be on your desk, sir. Once you've signed it, we can go now and have a look around, if you like."

Roy groaned. The very thought of leaving his station, and wasting his time going through some man's house in the middle of the night was just too much. He was too drunk, and too dumb with exhaustion. Besides, the house would still be there in the morning. They had the guy in custody after all. And that was enough.

"Tomorrow." Roy helplessly yawned again. "Fucking tomorrow. You are dismissed Lieutenant Ross."

Ross looked a little startled by his choice, but then relaxed and nodded. Better to do it when they were both fresh, and in daylight.

"Very good, Führer. Until then." She started towards the door, then stopped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He knew what she was about to say, felt it in his heart, and yet he could not deny the hope that stirred, as much as he hated it. To him, she took forever to speak. "About Fullmetal... we couldn't find anything today. I'm sorry."

He didn't react, and just sat there, cold and alone.

She took that as acknowledgement and walked on through the door.

Roy put his head in his hands, his body racked with sudden, terrible weeping.

* * *

 **Dib07:** Thank you to those who have recently joined me in reading this. It's gonna get crazy! And sorry for the huge dollops of Roy and Roy and well, Roy. ;)

Don't worry, it's gonna be something else!


	4. Out of Control

**Opening Doors by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

Post-Fullmetal Alchemist series.

 _To think that he may never have opened that door._

 **Warnings:**

\- Much of this story will contain mature and/or dark content not suitable for younger readers. Do not be frightened by what I write, but I am an adult writer and I do not shy away from what others may otherwise do so. Also, Edward. Yes. Edward.

* * *

 **Dib07:** Due to interest in this story I've gone and given it another update! Enjoy! **  
**

 **Chapter Four: Out of Control**

It was blindingly sunny, dry and warm. The clouds were sparse and humbly white.

Roy led the escort of a prison van behind him as he drove his own car up Black Cherry Road. Riza Hawkeye sat behind him, with Havoc at the back. Two constables drove the security van in the chance they might meet resistance at this 'alleged home' of Lord Mercy's.

"I don't think Lord Mercy is his real name at all." Riza was saying as Roy found somewhere to park. "But he's confessed to the allegations of the diamonds, so we can at least put him away."

"But with a fake name like that, and no prior identity," Havoc added, "we have no idea of that bastard's history."

Roy was much too tired to join in with their suspicions and thoughts. Upon waking that morning, he had convenienced himself with a tumbler of dark liquor and coffee just to remain upright. He had no enthusiasm – no care. But even so, in this warm daylight he was harbouring the dreams he had suffered the night before. He had dreamed of Edward, as he often did. But instead of looking for him through the dark corridors of his mind, Edward had turned up at his very doorstep, smiling as if no time at all had transpired and that he had never been lost.

He looked so small, but so happy.

Roy had lurched forwards, not caring for formalities, and hugged him desperately hard. He had felt his very bones as if they been real. When they had parted, Edward had stopped smiling. The little alchemist levelled his darkening gaze at him, and had parted his lips to say: "Listen."

Roy had woken up, jolting forward like he did on most occasions, breathing harshly as if he had just stumbled out of a hurricane. He was alone in his dark room, a room that had not yet been touched by the first rays of dawn.

 _'_ _Listen.'_

The words were still clear, still accented in Edward's laboured, husky tones.

But even now, out in the early spring day, with birds flocking overhead, he still remembered it vividly, wildly, even if it did him no good whatsoever. Roy was no serious believer in dreams. So far they had sought to hurt him more than anything, with their taunts of finding Edward, only for him to later wake back into the cold folds of reality.

He opened his car door just as the big black security van was parking up.

Riza was already outside, giving the house a good look-over. Havoc was in no rush. He had squeezed out a cigarette from the pack and was lighting it in exuberance.

Roy too discerned the house with little assiduousness. It was like any other house. Bland, inconspicuous, ordinary. It fitted perfectly with the rest of the row of housing, and Roy would have been hard pressed to pick it out without knowing prior its significance. The front was not exactly immaculate. There were a lot of cigarette butts on the porch, and soda cans and... condoms.

Roy blinked lazily in the daylight at them; half tempted to ask his inferiors if they were seeing the same thing he was.

"Lovely." Riza groaned in disapproval. "I suppose some people have no idea how to dispose of things properly. Lousy idiots."

Havoc, sucking on his cigarette, jerked a thumb towards the side of the house. "Führer, if you don't mind, I'm going round to check the side of the house, and see if the back doors are locked. Can't have any fools escaping now, can we? Once you ring the front door bell and they see our blue uniforms, the might go crazy and scurry like animals who had caught a whiff of fire."

Roy nodded.

Havoc left them at the porch. Riza, unimpressed at Roy's silence, gave him a sombre glance before detaching her gun from her holster and walking up the front porch steps to the door with the gun clenched taut in both hands. She was careful where she trod amongst the ugly debris.

Roy stepped away and looked down the back alley that separated this house from the next. Havoc had already gone down it to reach the rearward entrance.

"Hello? Anyone in there? We have a warrant for this house!" Riza was shouting into the letterbox once her firm knocks had failed to summon anyone within. "Open up at once!"

"Just get on with it, Hawkeye." Roy came up beside her and with a single kick; he broke the lock and sent the door flying into the sidewall, leaving a huge dent. Dust from the ceiling speckled down from the abrupt force above.

Riza and Roy's eyes uneasily met, and then she nodded and went in, gun held out in front of her as if this was a raid.

Roy followed with little interest. He knew he had to perk up and do the job. The job was all that mattered now, it was all that kept him from slipping off the edge of sanity. If Edward were here, he'd be swearing and cussing for Roy to get a move on. To 'wake up' and be a fucking man.

But moving on was so hard.

 _You're dead, aren't you, Fullmetal? How can I avenge you, when I have no idea what happened to you? Six weeks is a long time, but still, your brother Alphonse won't ever give up until he has found an answer, no matter how small. And a part of me should never give up, either._

"Mustang." Riza whispered sharply. He obviously wasn't concentrating. Jerking awake, he took note of her position, and took out his own gun. Together they proceeded down the hallway, side by side. It was utterly silent.

Inside it was hard to believe that this was the same house they had stepped into. The floor was covered in indiscernible rubbish, old, dry food, cutlery, tissues. Bits of glass. Hypodermic needles. And occasionally in the dirt like ill trinkets were the glimpses of diamond.

The kitchen was a mess. A few chairs were broken and overturned. Some of them were veneered in old blood, as if there had been a fight in here, and quite recently too.

"Check upstairs." Roy whispered. Riza was off in a flash, loyal to the very end. He was grateful right now for her solidarity. He couldn't have got very far in life if it hadn't been for her support, and her counsel.

Havoc had lock-picked the back door and stepped onto the glass littering the kitchen floor. Again some of the glass was veiled red in what could only be more blood.

"Looks like infighting." Havoc murmured quietly.

There was a fridge to their left down a little alcove. It stood open. Inside it was full of bean tins, bottles of water, packed ice, and more hypodermic needles that were full of some lightly tinged blue liquid inside. Roy merely peered at them before moving on again. "Looks like three people living here, easy." He noted. "They must be hiding upstairs."

"Oh, I'd say."

They creaked upstairs.

The bedrooms were an unholy mess too. Bedsheets sprawled across the landing. Some golden locks of hair scattered over the threshold of one of the bedrooms. Riza opened a bathroom door, and almost opened fire. A man had been hiding inside: on the toilet. At once he threw his arms up in surrender. Roy did not recognise him. He was tall, thin, with black curly hair, much like Lord Mercy's had been, but this guy had a long face with droopy eyes.

"Stand up." Riza snapped.

The man did so, still holding his arms up.

"Step away from the fucking toilet!"

He did so, carefully and slowly.

"Now get down, hands on the floor where I can see them!"

As she cuffed him, Roy went into the master bedroom. It was quite plain and quite free from rubbish this time. But the main bedsheets were aghast in cum and blood stains. Almost as if some kind of diabolical orgy went on here.

Roy drew back the curtains, revealing more old bloodstains on the cream-coloured walls. Here he was, hoping to find the last horde of diamonds, only to walk in on some private fucking whore house.

Slowly he knelt down onto the sticky surface of the carpet and peered under the bed.

He thought he saw someone small, hunched in the back, in the shadows. But when he took a second longer to look, he saw that it was just old luggage. He dived in and pulled the cases out, opening them out when he saw that they were unlocked.

His face lit up with the white shine of diamonds. Hundreds and hundreds of them. They glinted back like stars all tugged in one big heap, shining and sparkling without shadows or gloom.

"Bingo." He said without sounding very pleased.

He clasped the two cases closed and picked them up.

Havoc came into the room. "There's no one else in this house, sir. I think we got the only guy." Then he noticed the cases. "What are those?"

"The diamonds. There may be more. Has anyone been up into the attic?"

"This house has no attic, sir."

"Ah, right. In that case, that was a lot easier than I'd anticipated. Well done, Havoc."

Riza was marching the man they had found downstairs. He was cuffed, with his head bowed in defeat. Havoc and Roy double checked the last few rooms, remembering to search under any more beds, behind the curtains and in the wardrobes.

Roy then passed Havoc the two cases full of diamonds. "Take these to Central. We'll need to log them as evidence. As for the suspect we've arrested, we'll provide a nice new cell for him."

Havoc nodded. "Do you think that's the end of the toxic diamonds?"

"I really hope so. To think that all this was done by just two men."

"Yeah. Evil doesn't need much, does it?"

Riza was putting the man into the back of the van under the supervision of the two constables. The man went in quietly, without a fight. It was funny. He didn't seem to have a mark on him, and neither did Lord Mercy. So how come there was so much blood spread about the place?

Roy walked through the rooms one last time before emerging into the gorgeous sunlight through the open main door. His eyes were so accustomed to the darkness within that he had to blink a few times to get used to the daylight. Havoc was lighting up a new cigarette, pleased with a job well done.

Once the man was packed and loaded like cattle into the security van, the constables gave Roy a salute before getting back in and driving off to Central.

Riza and Havoc meandered towards Roy's vehicle under the hot, striking glow of the morning sun. They adopted much more relaxed postures. Their guns were concealed again, and they were talking about paperwork and whose duty was currently the hardest. Havoc was in the habit of bitching and whining.

Roy knew he had to get back to Central. They'd leave the house and its contents to the investigators who would be arriving in as little as twenty minutes once the security van returned safely. Lord Mercy and his friend would be put away for a long time. Perhaps as long as fifty years each.

"It's odd though, isn't it, Mustang?" Riza asked when Roy went to join them.

"What is?"

"This 'Lord Mercy.' Giving the game up, just like that, and telling us where to go. Almost as if he had got tired of hiding."

"Some do." Roy didn't find it particularly enigmatic.

"Fucking druggies." Havoc interjected. "Hypos everywhere. And condoms! Barbaric sons o' bitches! They're prolly dying from their own STDs, so maybe they just stopped caring."

Roy shrugged.

He was back in his dream. With Edward smiling.

 _'_ _Listen.'_

There was a moment of knowing, of reaching out and seeing it all. Then he blinked and the moment passed, and all the magic that came with it.

The sun was pleasant, but he felt lost and dark inside.

Riza had opened the car door and was just about to slip inside when she glanced his way. "Mustang?" She asked unsurely when he just stood there with his head down, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You two get in the car." He said without looking at them. "I just need some space."

Havoc glanced at Riza and shrugged. So they both got into their respective seats and closed the car door.

Roy sauntered up the dirty porch steps and then stood in the open doorway of the house. Now that they had infiltrated it, and taken with them the only delinquent, the house seemed sad, and lonely and foreboding. There was darkness in there that no sunlight could touch. And there was coldness everywhere, spread out like shadow. Even after this house had been swept of evidence, and then cleaned and put back on the market, some remnant piece of evil would forever remain, and so haunt the next lot of occupiers.

"All right." He said. He turned back and clambered into the car. They looked at him worriedly, but he said nothing else.

He drove back to Central, thinking only of his dream.

xxx

 _'_ _Listen.'_

Roy had felt that hug as if it had been real. Smelt his hair.

Then the words had brushed through him like leaves scarping across stone. And left their mark.

And so, Roy listened.

The house didn't so much as creak. It seemed to stare back at him, full of deep loathing and hatred. Even with the sun on his back, there was a childish fear that started to grow inside him. There were monsters in there, just beyond the threshold of the next room around the corner where he could not see. They were waiting, holding their breath.

He could hear a clock ticking inside. Probably the grandfather clock he had seen on passing upstairs outside one of the rooms.

There was birdsong behind him, and the humble purr of his car's engine as Riza and Havoc waited outside to be taken back to the station.

No. There was nothing inside to hear.

Just silent bad memories of a bad place better left forgotten.

"Just a stupid dream. What am I doing here?"

He turned to go, heading into the sunlight when he _did_ hear something. He stopped and glanced uneasily over his shoulder into the hallway.

It... It sounded like...

...like a scream...

He turned back around, straining all the harder for a noise. But the sound was not repeated.

Roy could see gulls gliding overhead above the houses opposite. Could it have been them? But the cry had sounded so muted... so faint, like it had been boxed in.

A cat maybe? Had a cat got in?

It would not do well if the investigators got here to find a cat disturbing the evidence.

Roy walked back inside.

"Here kitty, kitty."

But each room turned up as empty as it had before.

"Strange."

It wasn't trapped someplace, was it?

He went down into the parlour, where the sofas were all tussled and gnawed. The carpet was sticky with melted chocolate and assorted rubbish, including beer tankards from a restaurant because it had the logo: 'Beef and All' embossed on the sides.

One part of the wall had a shelving unit against it. Except there was some rather odd things on these shelves. There was a leather studded collar that was ever so small that it would have more likely have fitted a cat more than a dog. Except it too carried the malodorous odour of blood. There were also bolts and screws, and, oddly, a steel plate that reminded Roy terribly of the friend he had suddenly lost all those months ago.

The wall behind it was different too. It looked like it had been cut, and then put back together, as if it contained some hidden store chamber beyond. Such finds were hardly uncommon. Roy suspected that there was more diamonds hidden behind it, and he'd be damned if the investigators found something that he had so blindly missed.

He knocked on the partition, and there was an odd, hollow sound. The wall adjacent to it was solid, and did not so much as echo.

Roy grabbed the shelving and pushed it away, revealing a doorknob and a keyhole under it at the wall. His hopes stirred.

He went to turn the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge.

"Locked!"

He had seen no key and nothing tiny enough to fit into a lock so small. For all he knew, Lord Mercy had it on him still, or it was on his damn cohort who was halfway to Central by now in the security van.

With a flying kick he had shown Riza earlier that morning, he hammered at the partition, not caring much for what he might damage from within.

The partition cracked down the middle, the plaster chipping away in flakes.

"Once more!"

Mustang gave it one more kick and the fake wall split down the middle. One half of it fell inwards, churning up white clouds of dust. The other half closer to the hinge hung on, and swung pensively on its screws.

He wafted away the dust from his face with one gloved hand and peered inside. It was an immeasurably small cubbyhole, all of it painted black. And, strangely, it stank strongly of sweat, blood and urine.

When he looked down, at first he thought he saw a white mannequin on the floor, hunched on one side closest to the far wall, complete with hair coated in plaster and dust. When the dust had cleared a little more, he was convinced he was being deceived – by his own brain, or by some spectating God.

For the mannequin sure as hell looked a lot like... Fullmetal.

"No... no! It... it can't be!" He was speaking without realizing it, panicking without realizing it. His hands were suddenly shaking and he couldn't swallow.

He bent down to observe this trickery a bit closer.

The more he looked, the more he saw.

Roy brought out a quivering hand, about to touch this mirage, and at first his hand wouldn't go far enough forwards. He was afraid. Unbelieving. He just stared, unable even to blink as his mouth fell open as his hand hovered in the air, unable to follow on through. He managed to swallow, and blink, and it brought on thick tears that spilled down his cheeks in smooth rivulets.

He coaxed his fingers forwards a little more, and deftly – shyly - touched the cheek that was turned away from him.

It was no mannequin.

The skin, though cold, was flesh. The hair too, was real. As he brushed the dirt from it, gold started to show through, though it was matted and dull.

"Oh gods!"

What he had mistaken for a white mannequin was merely a human so sickly thin, and so sickly white that he may as well have been made out of plastic.

It was him. It was Edward Elric!

"Oh gods! Oh gods!" It was all he could say: a mantra that danced through his head as much as it did his lips.

He had been here? All this time? Hidden?

"Oh gods Edward!"

He took hold of Edward's shoulder, the one that was gaping with nothing but a metal port, and, sucking in his bravery, pulled him towards Roy.

The little alchemist limply rolled onto his back, exposing his sunken chest and pelvis. There was a dusty blanket that just about covered his legs, but little else.

Some small part of him: sunken, but still there, whispered of his officers and he blundered wildly down the parlour, through the kitchen and into the hallway, screaming: "HAWKEYE! HAVOC! OH GODS! OH GODS!"

It was then he woke.

He catapulted forwards in bed, sheets strangling his sweaty legs as he shouted for his comrades. It took him several, long moments before he realized he wasn't on the bright sunlit porch but in his own bed, calling for officers that weren't even there. He shuddered, blinking torpidly in the near dark as moonlight veiled his furniture in dull gleams. It took even longer for his sweat to cool and for his heart to slow down. But the disappointment was far worse.

It clawed into him like something demonic.

Edward had been there! He had been behind that door! He had found him! Had touched him!

Then, an idea came to him.

Roy tore his bedsheets off his legs and threw on his uniform. The buttons were done up all askew, and he had put his vest on inside-out, but he didn't care. He snatched his gun from the desk drawer and opened the barrel to make sure it was fully loaded.

Before long he was hurtling down the empty, dark road in his car. Back towards the house. Back towards the shadows of a dream.


End file.
